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by EternalBroZone



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Can be interpreted as platonic or romantic - Freeform, Crying, Cuddles, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:07:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26459188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalBroZone/pseuds/EternalBroZone
Summary: Something in Nines’ gut twisted for the umpteenth time that day, but this time, he didn’t have to work past it. He didn’t have to hide, or pretend that he was fine until he no longer had the energy to even think, let alone speak, or cry in his brief moments alone because it was all so much. Too much. This was Connor. Connor always understood.Can be interpreted as platonic or romantic.
Relationships: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





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**Author's Note:**

> Let's all project our problems onto cute android boys together, shall we?

“You’re home late,” Connor remarked, looking up from his book as Nines walked through the door. “What kept you?”

Nines said nothing, shrugging pathetically. The door clicked shut behind him— he forced himself to look over at Connor, catching a glimpse of the tail end of a yellow cycle from his LED. Something in Nines’ gut twisted for the umpteenth time that day, but this time, he didn’t have to work past it. He didn’t have to hide, or pretend that he was fine until he no longer had the energy to even think, let alone speak, or cry in his brief moments alone because it was all so much. _Too much_. This was Connor. Connor always understood.

He finally let himself fall apart like his mind had commanded the second he’d made it to work, tears already slipping silently down his cheeks. He signed, a small gesture— _I want_ — and even if he didn’t know what he wanted, he knew that Connor would take care of it.

Less than a second passed between his breakdown and Connor’s hands pressing insistently at his arms, running up to his shoulders and then his face, wiping away falling tears. “Oh, Nines. Ni. It’s alright. You’re home now.”

He didn’t notice the lights turn off at Connor’s silent command, but he did notice when he was pulled gently onto the couch, Connor leaning backwards into the arm and cradling Nines’ head into the junction at his neck and shoulder with one warm hand. He curled around the contact, burying his face into his neck and stifling a sob, the first noise he’d made in hours.

Connor hummed, hands trailing up and down his back. “Okay. Let it out. You’re safe. Oh, Nines, my Nine Hundred. You’re safe here. I've got you.”

He cried, pressed as close to Connor as he could get. It was nice, in a way, to finally be allowed to just shatter; as gross and pathetic as he felt, it was… cathartic, perhaps. It was exactly what he’d wanted— to be held, to feel that he was known, loved, even as he was falling apart. What he’d wanted, and what he’d needed.

Several minutes passed, and once he no longer felt the immediate tension in his system, the tears subsided— Connor kept stroking his back, anyway. Nines reached out slowly to grab his second hand. He squeezed it once, then fit his fingers within Connor’s and made a few more signs, nothing more complicated than letters. Verbal communication was definitely out, and the thought of communicating via interface made his insides churn violently in something akin to fright. Connor didn’t seem to mind.

‘Sorry.’

“Never be sorry, not for this,” he murmured.

Nines hid his eyes in Connor’s neck. ‘Thanks.’

Connor squeezed his hand once more before releasing it and threaded his fingers through Nines’ hair, drawing gentle lines onto his scalp. It was a soothing motion, one that had seemingly always worked to relax him. He let his eyes drift shut, pressing one more sign into Connor’s chest— his fingers stilled briefly as he interpreted it, and then he continued his ministrations, letting out a fond huff of breath.

‘I love you.’

“And I you. Always, Ni.”


End file.
